


Nobody Knows, Just We Two

by In_love_with_writing002



Series: Discord Bingo Prompts [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Dom/sub Undertones, Eskel has fucked off somewhere and he wants to keep it that way, Geralt and Lambert learn things, Geralt is aromantic, Jaskier is cheering them on in spirit, Lambert is one Smooth MF, M/M, Mild Choking Kink, Panic, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Purring, anxiety attack, self-indulgent wall pin scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_writing002/pseuds/In_love_with_writing002
Summary: Geralt and Lambert explore a bit more of their relationship, and discover new things about each other.Or,The one where Geralt likes being choked.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: Discord Bingo Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157273
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	Nobody Knows, Just We Two

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Discord Bingo event! The prompt for this was "Choking/Breathplay" and was marked to be NSFW.
> 
> This is Also a part of my Jaskier/Lambert in Winter series, although it can be read on its own.

“Say, Geralt.”

“Geralt,” Geralt replied with a grin, watching Lambert’s face pull into an unimpressed frown at his joke.

“What’s Eskel been up to all this time?”

“Hm,” Geralt ran a hand through his hair, recently cut after a few too many incidents of it brushing his bare arms and frightening him. It had been time for a cut anyway. “Studying, I think. Said something a while back about some new author he’s latched on to.”

“That sounds like Eskel,” Lambert muttered in response. “Remember when you two were fresh off the path those first few years, and Eskel would teach the trainees?”

“Yeah,” Geralt sighed, lost in nostalgia. Decades ago, at that point— Geralt and Eskel, barely twenty, Geralt spending his winters brushing up on technique with the adepts, Eskel reading to the young ones in the evenings, spending his mornings and afternoons training the adepts in signs with Barmin. Before the keep was destroyed, winters were simple. Easy. Fun. “I remember sparring with you before you left for your first year,” he said. Lambert had been full of spite, even back then. Angry with the world, but at least he could hack-and-slash his problems away now. “And kicking your ass every time.”

“I think your memory’s slipping, old man,” Lambert argued. “Cause I beat you plenty of times.”

“No way, I only let you win so you’d stop bitching. Not that your gloating was much more tolerable.”

“That’s a damn lie.” Lambert waved a finger at him. “I can beat you any time.”

Geralt could sense that he was about to get into a fight if he let things continue, but his pride refused to let him back down. “Easy way to settle this, you know,” he said. “How about we have a match?”

“A little late out for a sparring match. Plus, we’ll need a judge.”

An idea was slipping into Geralt’s brain, a memory pushing its way to the forefront of Geralt’s mind.

_ Sitting in the bath, Lambert at his back, warmth and heat and overwhelming pleasure— _

“Jaskier’d probably do it,” Geralt mumbled. He met Lambert’s eyes and saw recognition flash in them.

“You think so?” Lambert asked, visibly fighting against a smile. Then uncertainty crossed his face, and he drummed his fingertips on the table. “I think... we could be pretty safe on our own, like, as long as we um, make a rule to decide the... Winner.”

The hidden meaning was not lost on Geralt. “You sure? We haven’t really…  _ fought  _ without a uh, judge before. Might get hurt or. Something.”

“Well,” Lambert said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d be happy to, erm, spar with you. I don’t think we’ll get hurt, and we can always call it quits if one of us feels uncomfortable.”

“Hm.” Geralt turned his head away in thought. Lambert was a good partner. Thoughtful, made sure he was challenged but doing okay. There really wasn’t a downside to it, if he was being honest. Usually, Jaskier was there to break the tension, even if things were going well. Although, really, Lambert was more often the one reassuring Geralt and Jaskier.

Usually Geralt.

“We could also just have regular sex?”

Geralt’s cheeks burned at the blatant statement. Sure, it was what they were talking about, but he didn’t have to say it so overtly! He chewed on his lower lip, hiding his embarrassment in his drink.

“Geralt?”

Geralt wouldn’t lie to himself— he  _ wanted  _ to try letting Lambert dominate him. Even if it was new, even if it was just going to be them, alone, without Jaskier to watch over them. He trusted him, and was definitely interested in seeing where it would go. Lambert was remarkably gentle for his prickly demeanor, and he could sniff out when Geralt was distressed, he was sweet and considerate and…

“Yeah, I um...” Geralt set his drink down, letting Lambert get a glimpse at him and assess how he was feeling. He could sense the concern in Lambert’s posture, and knew he really ought to reassure him. “I want to, uh.” He covered his eyes with his hand. He was useless at this. “Shit, I can’t get the words—“

Lambert chuckled softly. “I get it,” he said. “You know…”

Geralt peeked through his fingers at Lambert, saw him staring back at him and smiling lightly.

“It’s fun making you blush.” Lambert leaned his chin on his hand. “Prettier ‘n usual.”

Geralt’s face  _ flamed _ . His ears went hot, and the urge to hide himself became overwhelming.

“Come on, pretty-boy,” Lambert said, standing from the table and passing him, trailing a hand over his back. “Yours or mine?”

Geralt watched him pass, his walk casual, nearly a saunter, and definitely did not stumble to his feet. “Mine, Eskel will get—”

“I know how he gets,” Lambert said, waving a hand dismissively. Geralt swallowed and walked close behind him, his embarrassment slowly waning in the face of excitement over what was coming. “You want to go talk to him or something?”

“No,” Geralt said immediately, mortified at even the suggestion. “No, let’s just…”

Lambert stopped walking, craning his neck to see him over his shoulder. “You know I’m gonna make you talk to me, right?”

Geralt’s ears warmed.

“And I’m gonna touch you, if you want that.” Lambert’s fingers brushed against Geralt’s wrist, curling around it. He rubbed his thumb lightly over the inside of his wrist, which felt more intimate than it had any right to be.

“Yeah,” Geralt said, mostly a whisper.

“And I’m gonna make you purr, if it feels good.”

Geralt’s face burned. He felt flushed just from talking, which, when it came to Lambert, he shouldn’t have been surprised. “Yeah,” he said softly. “That’s… that’s okay with me.”

Lambert turned around and walked Geralt backwards, until his back was against the wall and, despite their size difference, Geralt felt remarkably small. He was looking into Geralt’s eyes. It was captivating, the near-icy amber of his gaze, warmth present but minimized to illustrate the gravity of the moment. The hand halfway pinning him to the wall didn’t move while their stare lasted. “If it’s ever too much.”

“What?” Geralt asked, having lost the first half of the sentence in the moment. He wanted to pull Lambert closer, and-

“Geralt,” Lambert growled, dragging him forcefully from his thoughts. “If something is ever too much, I need you to tell me. Don’t give me a signal, don’t rely on your scent. Tell me.”

Geralt felt breathless. “I can do that.”

He really wasn’t sure.

“I’m holding you to that,” Lambert said. He moved a little closer, pressing Geralt to the wall, the hand he had previously trapped him with sliding down to his chest. His fingertips skimmed over the hollow of his throat, and he really did go breathless. A slight smile crept onto Lambert’s face like he was in on a secret, then he leaned in a little. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

Geralt opened and closed his mouth uselessly, feeling ungrounded but very interested. He lost his composure and pulled him in closer, pressing their lips together.

It felt natural, Lambert’s mouth moving against his, the feeling of his beard scruff against his cheeks rough, but not abrasive. With it came the desire for that scruff to rub against more... sensitive zones.

He wasn’t sure why he’d fought it for as long as he did, the idea of him and Lambert together. But he was glad that he had gotten over it, moved past it so he could enjoy a kiss with him, enjoy the idea of having sex with him, appreciate the idea of being together intimately.

“Let’s move a bit quicker here, we’re not too far.”

Geralt’s breathing had picked up during the kiss and he felt dizzy with it, wanted to collapse, but Lambert’s hand on his chest held him up.

“Careful there. You alright?”

“I just want you.” Geralt’s voice came out shaky.

“High praise.”

“Lambert.”

“Okay, okay.” Lambert stepped back, dropping his hand to twine with Geralt’s and tugging him along towards Geralt’s room.

The trip was short, and Geralt started removing his clothes upon request, folding them out of habit and setting them aside. Lambert coaxed him into the bed and he found himself lying on his back, looking up at his partner while he murmured to him.

“It’s impressive, honestly, how quickly you picked up on things, how easily you took to being dominated.”

Geralt’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you.” He phrased it like a question, unsure how to really react.

“What do you want, Geralt?” The words echoed with authority, and Geralt felt choked, as he always did. Pleasant though— he let the decision hang to enjoy the floating feeling before it became too much.

“You decide. I just want you.”

“You’re sweet,” Lambert huffed, although Geralt caught a glimpse of pink in his cheeks. “Alright then.” Lambert ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair once before shuffling backwards, visibly shuddering when his clothed cock came into contact with Geralt’s very obvious and exposed prick. Geralt’s throat failed him on a noise and he started purring, but Lambert didn’t mention it. “Could stay here, if I wanted to. Enough pressure to make you feel me, not enough to get off.”

Geralt rasped a breath, unable to get air into his lungs properly with the purr forcing its way out his throat.

Lambert bent forward, placing his hands on Geralt’s shoulders. “Would you let me do that, if I wanted?”

Not ‘would you like that,’ or even just leaving it off on asking permission.  _ If I wanted,  _ he‘d said. Like it didn’t have anything to do with Geralt. As if Lambert was just taking pleasure with him as an afterthought. The thought made him feel remarkably hot, knowing that even if that was how it seemed, Lambert was conscientious and caring and careful about making sure his partner was enjoying himself. He’d experienced that firsthand, but  _ fuck— _

“If you wanted,” he said, voice rough.

“Hmm.” Lambert bent down, gently pressing his nose to Geralt’s neck. Sniffing him, checking in. “I could also get you off quick, if I wanted.”

“If-“ Geralt swallowed thickly as Lambert’s hand moved over the hollow of his throat as he adjusted. His grip on Lambert’s still-clothed thighs tightened, still unable to get any words out.

“What was that?” Lambert asked. Geralt grit his teeth, about to try to force the words out but—

The hand on his throat returned, intentionally, and all he could get out was a broken moan.

“Geralt…” Lambert chuckled softly. “Do you like how this feels?” He moved his hand away a little, and Geralt sucked in air like he was desperate for it. He hadn’t even cut off his air, but to nearly  _ have  _ it had been…

He didn’t realize he was tilting his head back until a soft thumb moved over his jaw.

“And we call Buttercup shameless,” Lambert mumbled. “I didn’t think I’d ever end up using this stuff he showed me when we first got together but… here we are.”

Geralt blinked in confusion, a little taken out of what was happening, but then Lambert  _ covered his throat with his hand _ —

“I’m going to rest it here for now.”

It felt  _ good _ , having something at his neck, something to focus on other than the pressure on his cock, than the space that existed around them. He felt dizzy under the presence of it, felt his mouth dry and his limbs become a strange combination of loose but entirely too tense.

“Breathe, Geralt,” Lambert whispered. Geralt realized he’d been holding his breath and exhaled cautiously. “Good. Deep breaths. Keep breathing.”

It should  _ not _ have been as erotic as it felt. Lambert’s hand was gentle but insistent, providing a constant presence on his throat and setting off a rush of energy in his head, which went straight to his groin. He breathed on Lambert’s instruction, opening his eyes to stare cautiously at him.

“Right here, big guy,” Lambert assured with a smile. His pupils were wide, a sign of interest, and his free hand rubbed a soothing pattern over Geralt’s chest. “I’m going to squeeze now, blink a few times if you can’t breathe, okay?”

Geralt blinked once to let him know he understood, watching the smile on his face widen a little before it softened. Geralt focused on his breath, and after a moment, the pressure on his neck changed. The reaction was instant.

He felt light-headed and his mouth opened instinctively, drawing in air uncontrollably. Panic gripped his chest even as pleasure coursed through him, unrelated to the lack of blood, it felt  _ good, _ but he couldn’t-

It was-

“Breathe, Geralt,” Lambert said, loosening his grip.

“Fuck,” Geralt said weakly, fear clawing at his gut. “I-“

“Calm down,” Lambert said softly. “Deep breaths. Take control over your body.”

It was something that they would tell each other when nightmares got bad, or old ghosts reared their heads, or if they felt too restless to sit still. It was like a type of meditation, taking back control over the parts of their bodies that had become too overwhelming to ignore.

Geralt took two very deep, purposeful breaths, closing his eyes and taking in Lambert’s aroused scent.

“That’s it,” Lambert said. “Did you panic? You locked up.”

“No, it was-“ Geralt cleared his throat. “No. I… I-“

“To the point, Geralt.”

“I liked it and I got nervous,” Geralt blurted.

“And why did you get nervous?”

“I-” Geralt paused. “I don’t… know?” He thought on the statement. Why did he get nervous if it felt good? The same thing had happened with Jaskier in the bath, before Lambert arrived to help him calm down. “I liked it, I don’t know why I panicked.”

“Last time you panicked, it was because you felt like you were giving up too much control. D’you think that might be it?” Lambert was gentle, a complete change from his usual prickliness, patient and open and soft. He’d never seen him like that before.

“Maybe,” he agreed. There was definitely an element of that to it, he thought. Relinquishing the control he so carefully maintained was frightening every time. Relying on someone else to understand his needs was terrifying. Asking them to monitor something as basic and necessary as his breath… “I think this was a bad idea.”   
  
Hurt and confusion flared among the scents in the air, and Lambert shifted as if to move away. “I get it,” he said, sounding so fucking dejected Geralt’s heart ached.

“No, not- Lambert,” He grabbed Lambert by the shoulder and pulled him in for a tight squeeze. Lambert returned it immediately.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked quietly.

“No,” Geralt mumbled, pressing his face into Lambert’s hair. “I didn’t mean  _ you _ . I meant the, er...”   
  
“Choking?” Lambert offered.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Lambert pressed his face into Geralt’s neck.

“Alright?”

Lambert sighed. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood anymore. All that excitement has worn me out.” He swung one leg off of him and moved until he was sitting beside Geralt.

“That’s alright with me. ‘S about how I feel too.” Lambert looked anxious and shy, and Geralt pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You can stay here tonight, if you’d like. If you still want my company.”

Lambert stood from the bed silently, giving Geralt the freedom to slip under the blankets. Lambert shook his head with a chuckle, and stripped out of his trousers. “Yeah,” He said, sliding back onto the bed under the covers. The distance between them was palpable, and Geralt shuffled uncomfortably.

“Come here.” He reached out and brushed a hand over Lambert’s arm, practically able to see the tension drain from him as he shuffled closer, pressing up against Geralt’s side. Geralt turned and curled his arm around Lambert’s stomach, warm and reassuring, and it felt so  _ lovely _ to have him in his arms. “Thank you for offering tonight. And taking charge. I know I’m not the most ideal partner for this kind of thing.”

“I disagree.” The immediate response left Geralt scattered. “I’d rather have an experiment with you turn out bad rather than not have tried. We’ve both got learning to do, it’s not like we knew exactly what to expect going into it.”

“I guess,” Geralt mumbled. “So you learned something?”

“Sure,” Lambert said, looking over at him. “Learned you like getting choked, for one thing.”

Geralt’s cheeks heated.

“Oh, right, and that you look cute when you blu-” Lambert was cut off when Geralt dove in for a kiss to shut him up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
